


The Beat of the Drum (the sound of my heart)

by AngeNoir



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (mildly), Ageism, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anne Bishop fusion, Break Up, Culture Shock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Self-Harm thoughts, Self-Mutilation thoughts, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heats only ever happen when omega biology is kickstarted by drinking bloodwine - and Tony's never drunk a drop. Part of it was because his father made it clear how omegas could be taken advantage of during their heats, and part of it was because, when he made the decision to share in the monthly ritual, his chosen partners turned out to be... not that great.</p><p>Now, on the Avengers team, he wants to help his fellow omega Bruce out, help Bruce show Natasha he's interested, and Bruce makes it a condition that if he goes to the Dance, Tony must go as well. Tony briefly considers leaving off, but hey, he's old - who'd want an old omega? And this could finally be the time he could experience his heat under the watchful eyes of the Wardens, so no one could take advantage of him.</p><p>What could happen, right? Only, Tony didn't expect anyone to choose him - least of all Steve Rogers. But Steve Rogers has a different reason for picking Tony than Tony suspects…</p><p>Not all relationships are meant to last, and Tony should have known better to expect anything like that to last. Look at his track record, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beat of the Drum (the sound of my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different A/B/O world, where everything's a lot more animalistic, and it incorporates some of the mythology built by Anne Bishop in "The Invisible Ring," but twisted for my purposes. My art should be up soon, never fear!
> 
> This, like my other A/B/O fic, is based off of a prompt - only, this prompt is one that I promised to write for a looooong while ago. You can find the prompt [here](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/16524.html?thread=37401484#t37401484).

“Have you considered Dancing?”

Bruce very nearly dropped the test tube he was holding; as it was, he paled and shook his head. “No, Tony, that wouldn’t be a very good idea.”

Tony was currently perched on the edge of the table, and he frowned at Bruce. “Why not? I mean, I get that it’s an old custom and it won’t be like the original ritual since I doubt you’d want anyone there but us Avengers, but the Dance will give you that extra confidence to strut your stuff. You’d only have to take a sip of the bloodwine, not a full swallow, so you’ll be as in control as ever. And let’s face it, long-lasting relationships only ever start with the Dance, and I doubt you’re looking for something casual.”

“Dancing doesn’t always end in a relationship,” Bruce muttered.

“Now you’re just quibbling,” Tony sighed. “Look, I just think you should go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? She doesn’t offer? Then you’ll have started your heat, but it will still be manageable. And, hey, maybe another alpha will offer pop up and you’ll get to make her jealous.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, just hunched his shoulders and stared down at the microscope. Tony edged closer – omegas, like himself and Bruce, were tactile people, and sought comfort from touch and closeness of others, but Bruce was a special case and sometimes wasn’t exactly receptive to touches.

“I’m not saying this to make you upset,” Tony murmured.

“I know,” Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and removing his glasses. “I just – so many things could go wrong. Maybe I’m reading everything wrong. And what about the Hulk? I don’t – I don’t want to do anything that can cause him to come out.”

Tony bit his tongue – a feat, to be sure. But it had taken him months to convince Bruce to move past Betty, to look beyond his lost love and at the admirer he had already. Natasha was subtle about it, but Tony (via JARVIS) had caught her replenishing Bruce’s loose-leaf teas, and regularly a new green plant would appear in Bruce’s lab or Bruce’s rooms, or both. This past week, it had been bamboo, and it had made Bruce smile foolishly for hours afterwards. Bruce was so far gone over her that it would be almost pathetic otherwise, but Tony was pretty certain that she was just as interested in Bruce. And, hey, what with Pepper breaking it off with Tony and Bruce helping Tony through it, Bruce deserved a little help in return. And Tony could live vicariously through Bruce’s happiness.

“I’m – Tony, I’m not young anymore. How the hell would I Dance anyway?” Bruce grunted, looking over at Tony.

Tony put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, patted it soothingly. “You’re younger than I am, you realize that? Plus once you start the ritual the full moon will take care of it. No one goes into the Dance knowing exactly how they’ll move. How do you think young omegas and alphas do it?”

“Very badly,” Bruce grunted.

Tony opened his mouth to dispute that, and then closed it. He wouldn’t know one way or the other, actually – he’d never participated in a Dance. He knew plenty of people who _had_ – every omega he’d ever met had, at least once, if only to experience the rush of their heat, though some alphas and betas thought the Dances were ridiculous throwbacks to medieval society – but Tony’s father had forbidden him to ever participate, to the point of making certain Jarvis had brought Tony home from whatever boarding school or college he was in during the full moon.

Omegas, like Tony and Bruce, used the Dance as a type of ‘debutante ball’-like ceremony, a way of telling an alpha or beta they were considering finding a long-term partner that month. It was only tradition that placed the Dances on the full moons, and only tradition that dictated an omega couldn’t drink the bloodwine and have their heat any other time. Bloodwine was a highly expensive and difficult-to-get-ahold-of drink that was normally only ever available for free – in small amounts – for the Dances. That bloodwine should only be drunk during the Dances was another ritualistic tradition, but because of its high price, normally neighborhoods pooled together and applied for a permit with the local government, to be used at the local Dance for the omegas who were ‘presenting’ that month. You needed a certain number of people participating in a Dance to get a free bottle of bloodwine from the government; too little people participating and the participants would have to actually buy the expensive drink.

The ritual itself was fairly informal: drink the bloodwine that started up the hormones and triggered the heat, and then Dance before the fire and under the full moon, start up their heat and release pheromones into the air – and the pheromones would also let the omega’s claws, normally sheathed under their fingernails, to slide out. Alphas and betas that were present could then watch the omegas Dance and, if they were interested in more than a casual roll between the sheets with a particular omega, walk up to where the omega was Dancing and take the omega’s wrist. Of course, the omega didn’t have to give up their wrist to just anyone; if they didn’t like the alpha or beta, it was simply a matter of whirling away to prevent being ‘captured’ and continuing to Dance elsewhere. Yeah, the alpha or beta might follow the omega and overpower them, which had happened before, but the grabbing of the omega’s wrists wasn’t the only step. Once the alpha or beta had a hold of the omega, the pheromones shut down _their_ higher thinking as well, making them much easier to get away from if the omega wanted to. Beyond that, the alpha or beta needed to convince the omega to leave the circle with them, which the omega also did not have to do, and the few times an alpha or beta had physically dragged an unwilling omega from the circle and the wardens hadn’t stopped the alpha or beta, the omega had sliced them up; of the five times Tony had heard of himself, four of them had ended in the alpha’s death. (The beta had lived, just barely, though she lost her eyesight.) And the omegas were never prosecuted; any omega that used their claws outside the ritual circle was always judged as acting in self-defense, and most judges would throw out the case before it even reached a jury.

He’d always wanted to try the bloodwine – because that was what started an omega’s heat, the Dance was just a convenient gathering that gave the omega options of a partner – but he had thought of himself as not that pathetic yet, not actually willing to trigger his heat for the sheer pleasure of the heat if he had no one to share it with, and none of his casual partners had merited a serious consideration of it, especially since sharing the heat was the first step on a committed bond.

…Well, that wasn’t entirely true – he had considered it twice, very seriously, but thankfully Sunset and Ty had both revealed their colors before Tony had gathered up enough courage to drink it. Ty had been a close one, though – Tony had cooked a meal (badly, but he’d tried) and had the bloodwine poured and everything until he found the safframate in the bottom of Ty’s bag. Since safframate mimicked the effects of bloodwine, only ten times more potently, and triggered an omega’s need to bond or else risk the fever that stripped omegas of their ability to bear children or go through heats again, Tony had figured out pretty quick that Ty was not an ideal choice at all. A pinch of safframate did what drinking a whole bottle of bloodwine would do, and there was no legitimate reason for Ty to have safframate in his bag.

And with Pepper… Pepper had told him not trigger his heat, specifically because any heat he triggered – as any omega’s heat, really – typically lasted at least four days, sometimes as long as ten, and neither of them could be away from the company for that long. She’d also told him that he shouldn’t induce his heat just for a partner; it should be because he wanted to, because he wanted to feel desirable, and not to satisfy curiosity or someone else’s expectations. He had half-heartedly tried to change her mind, but didn’t really work hard at it. After all, he was a forty-year-old omega, and most omegas that Danced were thirty or under. It could just be that Pepper didn’t want to Dance with him, as the Dance and heat implied that both partners were willing to commit full-time to a relationship, and perhaps Pepper had already seen that such a commitment would have been impossible and undesirable.

Stopping himself before he could continue to mope over Pepper and her gentle break-up with him that hurt more than Ty’s drama-fueled tantrum or Sunset’s cold, clear break, he scooted closer to Bruce and leaned his cheek against the other’s shoulder.

“Look, you’re not sure if she’s serious,” _though I think she is_ , “and you’re not sure if you’re ready,” _though I know you are,_ “so the Dance is really the best venue to test it. Minimal damage all around.” Tony paused and considered. “If you really don’t want it to be in the highly intimate setting of just us six, I’m sure SHIELD holds the ritual in their ground headquarters. They’ll probably even have wardens to make certain no one forces an omega outside the circle, so if you’re worried about the big guy making an appearance because someone’s dragging you off caveman-style, the wardens will put a stop to it.”

“I don’t feel safe doing it, okay?” Bruce growled, refusing to look at Tony. “I don’t – I’ve never been in heat before.”

Tony perked up; he’d never met a fellow omega who hadn’t participated at least _once_ in the ritual and had a heat, and the prospect was electrifying – he really _wasn’t_ a statistical anomaly. Or, at least, he wasn’t the only one. “Really?”

That made Bruce pause, and then grudgingly say, “I went through three or four, in college. But never after I – never after the other guy.”

“Ah,” Tony murmured, trying to suppress the disappointment, lying his head back down on Bruce’s shoulder and absently tapping his fingers against his arc reactor. “So you’re not sure what the heat will do to big green? Or you’re not sure if the heat will even work with your jolly giant?”

Bruce was silent a moment, but Tony could work with giving him time. Eventually, Bruce sighed. “Both. Either. Neither. I’m not – I don’t know, Tony. I just – who’d want to Dance with me, knowing what I am? And if they didn’t know what I was, how do you tell someone that? It’s like – false pretenses.”

“Okay, you and I both know who you want to come up to you in the Dance, and you and I both know that if you attended this month’s ritual you’d only end up around people who knew about the big guy in any case. So that’s one half of the problem fixed by virtue of it being moot,” Tony said easily. “To the other part – how can you be so certain you _won’t_ get any Dances? You’re still young, virile, healthy. You’d be a lucky catch for anyone. You’re the most stereotypical omega there is, and I mean that in a very positive way. Alphas and betas fall over themselves for omegas like you.”

“Omegas like me?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at Tony disapprovingly. “Just what exactly do you mean by that?”

Tony squirmed a bit. “Not mouthy. Really domestic and caring, you know? All those skills that I lack. A peacemaker, not a peace- _breaker_.”

“I think the other guy—”

“Look, you’re more than just the Hulk, okay Bruce?” Tony said finally, crossing his arms and glaring back at Bruce. “Stop defining yourself by him. You’re both in the same body and the same parts of the whole, but that doesn’t mean you are just a human suit he puts on once in a while. You put _him_ on once in a while when the rest of the world’s being stupid.”

Bruce put down the equipment in his hands and pushed away from the table to peer closely at Tony, which made Tony shy away.

“Do you think you _aren’t_ a viable omega, then?”

“Brucie, babe, you aren’t a psychologist and this isn’t introspection hour—”

Bruce put a hand on Tony’s knee and frowned at him. “Alphas and betas fall over themselves for omegas, _period_. Omegas like me, like you, like that shallow secretary of Hill’s that drives all of us nuts—”

“I think we’re a little off-topic here!” Tony interjected a bit desperately. “You. This month’s Dance. I think it will work.”

For a long moment, it looked as if Bruce was going to continue trying to convince Tony on this point – which, really, it had been a throwaway comment, nothing _really_ all that important in the least, Bruce worried too much and if there was one thing Tony was used to hearing from all of his many, many casual alpha and beta hook-ups, it had been that Tony was _not_ what they were expecting in an omega. Even Pepper, the best alpha to ever alpha, couldn’t deal with him for more than seven months and eighteen days. Then Bruce smiled with a sly edge, which immediately made Tony suspicious.

“I’ll participate in this month’s Dance – _if_ you participate as well.”

Tony froze.

He’d never participated in a Dance before. Hell, he’d only ever privately done the ritual once or twice as a teenager before declaring it worthless and time-consuming, and never used the bloodwine to bring on his heat. He didn’t really want to be on display in front of others. Sure, he was as confident as hell in his seduction abilities, but he certainly wasn’t used to this aspect – of finding a mating prospect. Of possibly finding someone to hook up with and ultimately _bond_ with. He was an omega who was over forty years old. What alpha or beta would possibly want a broken-down omega like himself? He’d be left with a heat, having to deal with it on his own, and he liked to think himself not as pathetic as all that, really.

And then he breathed easier.

What alpha or beta _would_ want someone like Tony? No one, that’s who. No one would, and Tony would experience a heat, and it would put him out of commission for a couple of days, but he’d be _fine_. Yeah, it was pathetic to say that you spent your heat alone – but did Tony really want to die without experiencing a heat at least _once_? Plus, he could take one for the team, as it were, and boost Bruce’s confidence. He _knew_ Natasha would hook up with Bruce, and if this was the way to get Bruce to agree to it, he could deal with being pathetic. Hell, he could just take a sip of the bloodwine just like he’d suggested to Bruce, enough to trigger the flush of heat without going into a full mating heat, and retain full control of himself.

At least, he was pretty sure that was how the bloodwine worked. The smaller the sip, the less intense the heat – the more you drank, the more intense and dangerous the heat. Drink too much, and you risked burning your biology out.

“Sure thing,” he found himself saying.

Bruce’s mouth fell open. “What?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not? If you need someone up there with you, I’ll do it. You wanna make this a private, Avengers-only Dance? Or would you like to take part in SHIELD’s Dance, since they have wardens and safety measures and stuff?”

Bruce swallowed. “You’ve never done a public Dance before. Everyone’s speculated that you’ve stuck to strictly private Dances.”

The media speculated a hell of a lot, but no one had thought an omega would simply _not_ Dance, so that rumor hadn’t even cropped up. Tony shrugged, and grinned wickedly. “Why, Brucie-babe, did you really think that by adding that stipulation I’d let you off of this?”

Bruce stared at him a moment longer and then rested his head in his hands. “We’re doomed,” he muttered glumly. “This is – worse than I expected.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, honeypot, this could be so much _better_ than expected, too!”

With a muted glower, Bruce grumbled, “You did something twisty in your head. You wouldn’t agree to this otherwise.”

“Does it matter?” Tony said with a wide grin. “We’ll both do it, okay? I should have thought of that, myself. Keep you from chickening out.”

Bruce elbowed Tony, gently.

“So where do you want to do this?” Tony asked again, poking at Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we should do this as safely as possible,” he muttered. “SHIELD’s Dance will have wardens that can put me down if the Other Guy makes a showing.”

With an easy smile, Tony hopped off the table and patted Bruce’s shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, bub. Start looking on the bright side of life!”

Bruce gave him a droll stare.

 

***

 

It was two weeks to the full moon, and the Dance, and Tony delicately (for him) let Fury know that he and Bruce, the only two omegas on the Avengers, wanted to participate if SHIELD was holding the ritual this month.

Fury had sent back an email growling about how he didn’t want Tony to lead on any of his poor agents, and that he’d let Coulson know to alert the other alphas and betas on the Avengers team that Tony and Bruce would be heading back from the Dance in heat. The expectation, of course, that went unwritten and that Tony deliberately let lie, was that the Avengers – specifically the alphas – needed to be aware of the potentiality that a stranger would be seeing Tony and Bruce through their heats. Once Fury had let the Avengers know, however, they decided to go as a group to attend as well, so there was a sense of muted excitement and build-up to the full moon.

Which, in turn, made for a highly distracted Tony who was only half-aware of the world around him while he focused on what the heat might feel like, buying sex toys and making sure that his quarters could keep out all but the most determined alpha or beta (it would’ve been all alphas and betas, but if Thor wanted to smash through the door, well, it was fucking hard to proof a structure from Mjolnir).

All of that, the preparation, the muted worry, the nervousness, fell further and further away and he grew more and more hyper as the full moon approached. He’d get to participate in the ritual for once! Without having to worry about people trying to take advantage of his wealth, or initiate a bond, or any of the normal things that had kept Tony from doing a public Dance. The excitement affected his ability to concentrate, and with only two days to go he found himself starting projects only to be distracted away from them, spent a lot of time out of his rooms (but pretty far away from the alphas on the Avengers), a lot of bouncing around Bruce.

“You’d think this was your first Dance or something,” Bruce grunted, watching Tony as Tony attempted to clean up what he’d knocked over accidentally.

Both terrified and relieved that someone had figured it out without Tony having to admit to it (seriously, it was worse than admitting you were a virgin in today’s society, and Tony hated being embarrassed), Tony grinned wryly.

“Noo… really? Not a single public Dance before this?” Bruce said in surprise.

 _Not a single Dance, period_ , Tony thought, though he hitched a shoulder and kept his voice light as he rolled with the assumption instead of correcting it. “As a kid… Howard didn’t approve. Too easy to initiate a bond, he thought, to take control over his company through me, no matter what wardens were watching over the ritual. After Howard, never found anyone I wanted to Dance for, and going to public Dances… well, in my circles there’s too many problems with giving up even an ounce of control. I mean, even now I can’t really lose control in those kind of circles, with my kinds of enemies and people aware of just how valuable my inventions are, but this isn’t really a public Dance. It’s SHIELD, and they know about us. Me.” And yeah, he was worried that Fury would pull an underhanded stunt, but he had full faith that he could handle it, especially with the nifty little gadgets he was going to be wearing on his wrists and arms that he had (thankfully) managed to get complete before his nerves really affected his ability to concentrate. Such paranoia was leftover from his father; Howard had been paranoid to the extreme.

He could go on, of course, about how Howard had made it clear that Dances were just places alphas and betas went to take advantage of an omega’s heat, and spoke scornfully of Tony’s idealistic notions of love and finding a strong alpha who wanted Tony. In a perverted way, Tony could understand that Howard was worried about Tony, but it always came off more as if Howard was worried about who would gain control of Stark Industries because Tony was a romantic fool. And, to Tony’s shame, he had continued to secretly nurse romantic expectations until Sunset and Ty had stripped those of him quite thoroughly before he was twenty-three. He could explain in detail about how he could have gone to any public Dance he wanted to, but he got enough sex without it, and really, why trigger a heat and a potential loss of control, even for a short time, especially with the threat of someone bonding to him for his money, when he could be in control all the time and have all the fun he wanted?

But Tony bit his tongue and stood up. “Anyway. I know what people traditionally wear to these things. Is that what you’re going to be wearing?”

“Yeah. Well, not the _original_ tradition, because we’ve moved away from that, but yeah, just a loose pair of pants.” Bruce watched him a moment and then said, slowly, “You know, if it’s your first public Dance, maybe we should tell someone, like… Fury, or the wardens, or something. Someone. Public Dances have a lot more variables and if you’ve never had to deal with a pushy alpha or beta before, it might be smarter to have a closer eye on you and make certain you don’t get overwhelmed…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, Kermit,” Tony said dismissively. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”

Bruce frowned. “The purpose of the Dance is to lose control, loosen up. The wardens are supposed to be handling the safety aspect, not you.”

“I know. Still. I’ll be able to handle it.”

Bruce gave him a flat stare, but Bruce had nothing on Tony’s stubbornness and deliberate defiance of Pepper’s disapproving looks; there was no way that Tony was budging on this. As it was, the rest of the Avengers just thought Tony had someone in mind for his heat (hah) and had no idea it would be his first public (his first ever) Dance.

He really didn’t need pity, or the shock. He didn’t need the media scandal, all the speculation on ‘who would tame Tony Stark’ appearing again (he’d gone through that throughout his twenties and once was enough, thank you very much). He didn’t need to say he had been scared, all this time, worried about losing his autonomy. He wanted to enjoy this at least once in his lifetime, and enjoy what the heat felt like, even if he didn’t go with anyone to the back rooms. Either Bruce realized that, or believed Tony when Tony insisted on his ability to handle it, because he sighed and looked away first.

“Public Dances really are much different than private ones,” Bruce began, but he had that resigned tone of his that meant he didn’t expect anyone to listen to his voice of reason. “There’s a lot more pressure in a public Dance, and the hormones from the other omegas in the air drive your heat on all the quicker. Private Dances at least have the intimacy and closeness of friends and a larger measure of control.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony mumbled, poking at one of the test tubes idly.

“I’m not kidding, Tony.”

Tony looked up, one eyebrow raised elegantly. “And what made you think I thought you were? I get it, public Dances are hard, keep a close eye on myself, all that good stuff. Okay?”

Bruce squinted at him, but Tony was already moving to the door, determined to keep away from Bruce for the last few days before the Dance. Bruce was the only one of the Avengers that seemed really able to read him, and all the words he wasn’t saying.

It seemed as if he hadn’t put Bruce off as successfully as he had wanted to, since that evening Pepper appeared in his workshop. He’d been compiling searches of what was traditionally and customarily worn at Dances, and her appearance had startled him.

“Pep! What brings you here? I thought I sent off all those papers. Don’t tell me we have more fights over patents. I thought we’d figured all that out? Besides that what’s the legal team is for; why am I paying them if you keep bothering me with them? Maybe we should downsize their department. Threaten too, at least.”

“You seem more manic than normal,” Pepper murmured, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Really?” Tony did his best to rein in his nervous flutter towards the screens, instead clicking his fingers. Obediently, JARVIS blacked the screens.

Her eyes flickered over to the now-black screens and back to him, frowning. “Bruce and Clint mentioned you seemed a bit off. Natasha also said something to that effect.”

“They’re just all worry-warts, Pep, Pepper-pot, c’mon, do I really look like something’s wrong?” Tony grinned his most charming grin.

She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t think you want me to answer that question for you.”

Tony shot her a wounded look.

“Your puppy eyes stopped working for me back when you were a thirty-something idiot who thought he could write poetry,” she said easily.

“Hey, I worked hard on those lines, I’ll have you know!”

With one carefully raised eyebrow, she stepped up to Tony and placed a hand along his jaw and the side of his face. The scent of her, of _Pepper_ and _alpha_ and _friend_ , had some of the tension bleeding out of Tony’s shoulders, and he let his head rest a little more heavily in the cradle of her palm.

“You have been more upset than normal, at least,” she murmured, her other hand coming up and stroking along his forehead. “Is this something dangerous to you or your health?”

Tony squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t think so?”

After a heartbeat of silence, Pepper’s glare intensified so strongly Tony could swear he could feel the heat from it. “You don’t _think_ so?”

Nervously, Tony licked his lips. He hadn’t – he didn’t want anyone to know, that it was his first heat. That was like – like admitting one was a virgin, or that one never drank alcohol. Something society looked down upon, even though plenty of people did it, but ‘plenty of people’ was not the same as Tony Stark, hedonist extraordinaire.

But _someone_ should know _something_ , right? If only something happened. He didn’t want to be roped into a bond, after all, didn’t want someone messing with the company or the Iron Man suits because he decided to let his guard down a little. And Pepper would keep his secret, and keep an eye out for him. He hoped.

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper said sharply, leaning into Tony’s personal space. “You don’t think so?”

“Look I… remember back when we were dating – no, no, don’t give me that look, I haven’t earned that, why would you look at me like that?”

Pepper had her ‘exasperated-and-frustrated-with-this-idiot’ look on her face, and she took a step back from him, removing the points of contact. Tony didn’t miss it, of course he didn’t, even though her hands had been very warm and very soft and smelled of peaches. “Tony, we’re not going to start dating again, you understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course – _of course_ I do, Pep, I’m insulted, I got it, I know that we’re done and over with, I’m just saying – remember when I mentioned and pushed a bit to do a Dance with you?”

Pepper’s eyes shifted uncomfortably from his, even as her mouth pulled down in disapproval. “You mean, when you whined and gave me ridiculous reasons as to why I should have observed the ritual with just you and JARVIS recording it all? When you tried to get me to agree to bloodwine even though the Dance wasn’t for another two weeks? You seemed very interested in having a heat right then, right in the middle of our merger with AccuCorps. It was the worst possible timing you could have picked.”

Tony winced and shifted in his seat to put more space between the two of them. “Yeah. Well. I kinda – if you had agreed, you would have. Well.” He cleared his throat and before he could think better of it, rushed to the end. “YouwouldabeenmyfirstDancever.”

Squinting at him, Pepper mouthed the sounds he had made, obviously trying to make sense of what he had just spewed. Immediately, Tony realized he probably should have just kept his own counsel. Would have made things a lot simpler, wouldn’t have to have an overprotective alpha leaning over his shoulder throughout the Dance. Too many alphas thought that, since he was an omega, he needed someone to give him boundaries. Pepper had been – okay, she actually hadn’t been that different from the other alphas; worse, even, in some aspects, since she actually did run his life and set boundaries, and no matter how much he chafed at them he had to listen to them by virtue of the fact that the Board of Stark Industries had made it clear that without some kind of alpha influence in his life, they would have declared him incompetent. She had been tentatively accepted as the alpha in his life (mostly because of still deep-seated genderism that had most of society thinking female alphas couldn’t ever be as masterful as male alphas) after Obie had – had. Now she was going to be just so _overbearing_ —

“I – would have been your _first_ Dance ever?” Pepper repeated, slowly.

“Oh look at the time,” Tony muttered, even as he turned back to his computer screens and brought up the schematics for a design his R&D department had sent to him a few days ago, one that he had flagged as something to be sent over so he could look it over in depth and refine one or two points before selling it to the board.

“ _Tony_.”

Tony did his best not to flinch, even as Pepper came around the desk and leaned forward. She was an alpha, used to ordering him about, and he’d often be contrary for the sole reason to prove that he wasn’t going to be some obedient little omega, which only brought him back to his point about being an unlikely choice for any alpha or beta for the Dance, reassuring him that no one who knew him – and everyone in SHIELD knew him, if only by reputation – would actually try to bond with him.

Seeing him flinch, though, had Pepper pausing. After a moment, she stopped leaning forward and stepped back, sweeping her bangs from her eyes with a muttered oath. “Alright. You’ve never had a Dance before. Have you ever had a heat before?”

“It isn’t a big deal, okay, I just think you’re putting too much emphasis on this—”

“ _Tony_ ,” she repeated disapprovingly, and he closed his mouth, because that was her Disappointed Alpha voice and he really, really hated that voice. Even with all the independence he had dragged from his father and from the CEOs of his companies, even with his obviously well-lived life _without_ a steady alpha in it, that tone of voice could still rub his nerves wrong, make him want to cringe and make the alpha happy again. “Have you ever had a heat before? I know – I know it’s incredibly taboo to drink bloodwine without the ritual, but you’re not religious and you tried to instigate a heat before without the ritual, so I need to know how inexperienced you are.”

As she continued to speak, her tone had grown more and more patronizing, and Tony knew that kind of escalation; when alphas were given an inch, they pushed their way into taking a mile, becoming bossier and bossier. And it was bad enough to admit that he hadn’t had a Dance before; not having a heat was like – like admitting you were broken, that you were a virgin, that you were a naïve child who needed a guiding hand.

“Of course I’ve had a heat before,” he scoffed. “It’s just—” He paused, gathered his thoughts, staring at the computer screen in front of him and deliberately not meeting Pepper’s eyes. He could do this. He could pull this off. “Howard thought that Dances were too open and vulnerable for me. Anyone who wanted could take advantage and find themselves next in line for Stark Industries. In college he’d keep me from participating in any public Dances, and as I grew – well. I didn’t need a Dance to get what I needed.”

“I suppose as a rich kid you could just buy bloodwine by the bottle, have your heat whenever,” Pepper sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Well. Tony wasn’t going to abuse such notions. Especially since part of the reason the Dances were so institutionalized was because bloodwine was ridiculously difficult to ferment and make, and it was the government’s job to make certain local Dances had enough for one ceremony per month. Permits needed to be filed and everything, especially since bloodwine could, and had been in the past, used to illegally bring on heats and force bonds between omegas and alphas.

With a short nod, Pepper squared her shoulders. “Alright then. I’ll speak with Coulson – I’m certain he’s not participating in the Dance – and have him keep an eye on you. I won’t tell anyone else. I’ll take time off that night to supervise.”

“No, Pep, I don’t need you holding my hand!” Tony said immediately, twisting around to meet her gaze head-on. “I don’t need you to do this. I would rather – I don’t want you to be there, not when we – not since we’re not together anymore. Okay? I just – I want to get to have fun without trying to get you to sleep with me.” He paused. “Again.”

She was hurt, he could tell. It wasn’t his intention, but… in a way, it was. He knew, he _knew_ , she would be able to tell something was off from the start, since she knew him so well. Everyone else, well, everyone else would be focused on their own problems or emotions, and leave him to experience that free-falling exhilarating loss of control on his own. Pepper would try to be there, or to intervene, and just… he didn’t want her there.

Taking in a deep, controlled breath, she nodded once. “Well.” She moved a step back and continued, “Alright. I guess we’ll make it work. And Coulson is pretty good at keeping an eye on you.”

 _I will taze you and watch ‘Supernanny’ while you drool into the carpet_.

Tony could still remember the direct inflection, the uncompromising tone of _alpha_ mixed with something caring, something that made Tony want to behave and listen, even as he fought against that part of himself with everything he had. Clearing his throat, he hefted a shoulder. “For a definition of keeping an eye on me, yes, but I just want to enjoy this, Pepper.”

“You have someone to spend the heat with?” she asked, cutting to the heart of the matter and ignoring the whining tone his voice had taken.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m sure someone there will be obliging. And if not, I’ve got the required arrangement of sexual aids that will tide me over. I plan on enjoying this heat very, very thoroughly.”

“You understand that the atmosphere of the Dance will make your biology _want_ someone? Even if you have all those aids, it might not satisfy the heat, and an unsatisfied heat lasts longer than a satisfied one. You could be out of commission for a full week if you end up taking too big of a drink and only use the aids. Maybe even the full ten days. How long do your heats normally last?”

He was just going to pretend he hadn’t heard that question. With an impatient flapping motion, he slid closer to the keyboard and monitors. “I _know_ Pep, but it’s not like there’s anything big coming up, no one schedules anything _really_ big directly after the full moon.”

Pepper eyed him a moment more before muttering under her breath something about making sure an unworthy, jumped-up alpha wouldn’t touch a hair on his head. But it seemed to be enough; at least, she left the room and Tony watched the door close behind her.

He took a deep breath, and then another, before letting it whoosh out of his lungs.

“Well, then,” he murmured. “Let’s do this thing.”

 

***

 

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet once or twice, as unobtrusively as he could manage. He and Bruce were in the room prepared for the ritual – or maybe SHIELD kept this room just for the ritual, who knew? Tony certainly hadn’t bothered to find that out when he’d gone over their blueprints the first time he got into their system – with other SHIELD personnel who were going to participate in this month’s Dance. Like always, there were more women than men; omegas were always more likely to be women, and there were some Dances Tony had seen where every single omega had been a woman. However, SHIELD apparently drew the distinctive, and there were a lot more men in this gathering than there had been in other Dances. There were also mostly young men and women; omegas Tony and Bruce’s age were mostly bonded, or did private Dances. In fact, Tony was willing to bet he was the oldest omega present – though that wasn’t really a surprise, since Dances were for the younger set, still looking for a permanent mate, someone to bond with.

…At least, according to the Dances Tony had seen from Hollywood’s portrayal of Dances on the big screen. He wouldn’t know personally.

He, of course, was reveling in the fact that he was _here_ , he was actually going to not be society’s equivalent to a virgin anymore, and he was getting Bruce and Natasha to wise up to one another.

Genius, on all counts.

The door opened and Maria Hill, holding a large and ornate goblet, stepped into the room, and immediately Tony’s overactive and eager mind drew up why she’d be here. Normally, this type of event was overseen by the oldest omega in the town, or the omega who was mated to the head of the town. Apparently Hill qualified – he’d known she was an omega, but then again so was Fury’s secretary and Fury was definitely the leader here.

He wondered how omegas got chosen to guide the young omegas through the ritual? Certainly it’d be an interesting research topic, how interpersonal relationships translated into actual positions in the social hierarchy…

Belatedly, he realized Bruce had dragged him into the line of omegas that were sipping from the cup and walking through the door into the larger room where the Dance would be held, and where the alphas and betas (and wardens) waited. Hill handed the cup to Bruce and murmured, “Coulson handpicked the wardens to make sure they knew about you, and Tony, here. They’ll make sure nothing will happen.”

Tony opened his mouth to argue, say that nothing _would_ happen, they didn’t need special attention, but it seemed to visibly calm Bruce, as his shoulders loosened and he took the cup less as a resigned party and more as an interested and willing omega.

He sipped, barely enough to let the drink touch his tongue, and was through the door in nothing but the customary attire for an omega at a Dance – loose sweat pants and nothing else, underneath them or on the feet or on the torso.

Hill looked at Tony through suspicious eyes. “Coulson also said to tell you that he’d keep a special eye on you.” She paused, as if he was supposed to explain why Coulson would have that direct message.

But Tony just grinned jauntily and saluted her with the cup before taking in enough of the drink to coat the tip of his tongue. Then he was through the door in nothing but red sweats and the feeling of golden warmth trickling down his throat.

_Wow. That works… reeeeally fast._

Tony had read all the accounts, all the medical journals, all the biologists and chemists and toxicologists in the field, and the clinical terms had _nothing_ on the warm weight that traveled down his throat and pooled low in his belly. He knew the technical terms for all that was happening – the bloodwine activating long-dormant genes, telling his body that he was in a safe place and ready for a mate, unlocking the chemical reactions of his personal lubricant and increasing the flush to his chest and face. Around him, he could catalogue the reactions in the fellow omegas, as the women (topless like the men, but though Tony couldn’t help but notice when standing in the room waiting to come into the Dance, now his eyes kept drifting towards the walls where alphas and betas sat, kept in place by the wardens) threw their heads back and let their hair fall, as the men lifted their arms and arced their spines. He could logically and rationally tell what was happening at every step.

Then, from speakers around the room, a low drumbeat began to sound.

It was as if – as if the drums became his heartbeat, body thudding in time to the heavy thumping, and he found himself following the flow of the other omegas, slowly moving counter-clockwise around the room. He might have been self-conscious, had he been in his right mind, but with the bloodwine filling his belly and the drums thrumming in his spine and the scent of virile alphas and betas curling in the air, he didn’t care if his movements were a bit jerky, a bit out of time, or different moves altogether from what the other omegas were doing.

He lost himself to the Dance.

It was a whirling motion of exaltation, a celebration of their virility and availability, a festivity that allowed omegas to be who they were, to be desired, to be watched and admired and coveted by the alphas and betas who ringed the dance floor. Tony didn’t know how long it took – it was supposed to be fifteen minutes or around there, but it honestly felt like hours – but then there were additional bodies, more members dancing, and the intoxicating scent of alphas and the lesser, but no less intriguing, scent of betas swirled through Tony’s senses.

He was beginning to see why Bruce had cautioned him, why Pepper had. This – this _flood_ of information was overwhelming, debilitating. It was difficult to remember to pull away from the alphas and betas who would appear in front of him – difficult to remember his promise to himself, his certainty that he wouldn’t allow anyone to take him out of the circle because he didn’t trust Fury not to try and snag the omega at the head of Stark Industries. The only one he marginally – _marginally_ – trusted from SHIELD was Coulson, and he could faintly make out the blurred lines of the Agent, standing quiet and still on the outside ring of the Dance’s circle, a sentinel to protect and guard.

It made him feel a little safer, knowing Coulson was there, knowing that Coulson wouldn’t let someone take advantage.

Time whirled away from him, and he danced with many, many people, alphas and betas both, their scents curling in his nose, but always at the end, when they reached to link fingers with him and step him towards the edge of the circle, always he remembered Howard’s cautionary words, his fears of Fury, and he managed to drag himself back from the edge, managed to step back and return to the main body of dancers.

And then, suddenly, he found Steve Rogers standing before him.

It was enough to shake him out of the haze the bloodwine had put him in, enough to make him lose the rhythm of the dance briefly, and Steve looked uncertain. He started to step back, leave Tony alone, but Tony – Tony had crushed on Captain America all his childhood life. He’d heard stories about the perfect alpha, the perfectly correct and humble male who did not expect omegas to be breeding machines. Then he’d actually met the man, and despite a rocky start, found himself falling, if not in love than definitely in lust, with Steve Rogers. Steve was amazing and more than a little awe-inspiring, and Tony had to admit he had no idea why Steve would pick him, out of everyone here, to dance with, but if it came down to it, his virtue and safety was probably in no better hands than Steve Rogers’ broad hands.

So Tony reached out, letting his hands grip at Steve’s wrist, and when Steve met his gaze, something low and intimate and even _possessive_ in those blue eyes, Tony smiled and swayed closer, threw his head back and arched his spine in a mating dance he had never known he could do. Before, he’d been dancing, caught up in the pulse of his heart and the pounding of the beat, but here, now, he danced _for_ someone instead of _at_ people. He danced to match Steve’s movements; he danced in order to capture Steve’s attention and present himself to Steve in the most desirable way possible. Or, well, the most desirable way possible meaning the only way he could think right now, with the bloodwine riding his body and his normally sharp brain muffled and hampered by the pheromones in the air and the hormones pumping through his body. He lost himself in the heat of the room, the scent of Steve, the burning touches that made his nerves dance and sing. And when Steve hesitantly linked fingers with Tony and took a step back towards the edge of the circle…

…Tony allowed himself to be led.

At the edge of the circle, someone walked up to them and stood quietly in front of them, and Tony could vaguely work out that a conversation was being held around him. That made him annoyed, that he was lost in the soup of his emotions and hormones that he could not physically comprehend the words around him and that his chosen partner could think of something beyond Tony himself at this moment, and so he stepped closer to Steve, draped his body against the taller man’s front, clung in a way that made the conversation stutter around him.

“—you’re sure. Transportation—”

“—course we—”

Tony whined, hips rolling against Steve’s, and then Steve’s arm came around Tony’s waist and pulled him tight to Steve’s side, stilling Tony’s restless movements, thumb sliding over the line of skin above the waistband of Tony’s sweats. Tony hummed low in his throat, feeling his claws flex, just a bit, just enough to come out as Tony ran his hand over Steve’s shirtless chest and leave small, raised welts. Steve grunted and shook his head, his other hand coming up to grip Tony’s wrist once, hard, and then his grip softened and his fingers stroked the back of Tony’s palm.

 _Finally_ , they were moving, and Tony knew in the buried rational part of his brain that Steve probably had needed to explain to the wardens – to _Coulson_ – that he was entirely legitimate in his interest in Tony. While Steve wasn’t Fury’s lackey, he was still SHIELD, and Tony had made it absolutely clear before walking into the Dance that he hadn’t had any real intention of leaving the circle with an alpha or beta. Wardens were required to check all leaving pairs, because omegas who were coerced out of the circle often killed their partners during or after their heats, and a warden could be sued for not checking the omega for signs of distress or uncertainty. The rest of his brain, however, was frustrated with the lack of movement, with the slow pace at which they were making their way to a bed, and so he made impatient noises, trying to worm his hands down the front of Steve’s pants, and Steve had to catch his wrists, bring Tony’s hands back up to his chest. Tony growled warningly in the back of his throat, unhappy with his movements thwarted, and Steve seemed to pick up on the fact that Tony was edging out of lust and into bloodlust, because he bent down to kiss Tony, deeply and thoroughly, and wow, that sucked every thought out of Tony’s head except climbing this man like a tree.

Somehow, they ended up inside a car – Tony wasn’t sure how, all he knew was that Steve kept his mouth and hands occupied, and suddenly they were sitting down – and Tony was rocking his hips against Steve’s groin, fingers buried in the short hair at the base of Steve’s neck as he sucked at the underside of Steve’s jaw. Steve was making contented growling sounds in his throat, the deep bass of a pleased alpha, and Tony was trying to figure out how to strip off his pants and take in that dick when the car’s motion stopped and the back door opened.

Steve was saying something, something Tony didn’t quite get – all he knew was that the alpha was pushing him away, the alpha he’d chosen as his _partner_ in this mating, and he snarled at the interruption.

Steve made soothing sounds, patting Tony’s arm and ruffling Tony’s hair, but Tony knew when someone was trying to put him off and he growled low in his throat, fingers digging into Steve’s skin.

There was muffled noises, something along the lines of “—let go—” and “—try this—” and then Steve gripped Tony’s face, hands strong against Tony’s jaw, and he said firmly, “Upstairs, Tony. Bed. I want to do this in a bed.”

And, well, a bed sounded absolutely wonderful. After a few moments, Tony purred and relaxed his death-grip on Steve’s body and clothing. Within moments, they were climbing out of the car, and the outside world was suddenly pressing in on Tony – the sights, the smells, the sounds – and he whimpered, fingers clenching in Steve’s shirt.

One of Steve’s arms curled up around Tony’s shoulders, holding Tony’s face against his chest, and Tony gladly took the out for what it was, burying his senses in his alpha. He was vaguely aware of being walked up stairs, into an elevator, but it was dim, on the edges of his consciousness. He was also slowly realizing that Steve wasn’t… happy. He wasn’t sure why, especially if they were going to be tearing up the sheets shortly, and it was enough to start to move him from sexual lust to blood lust, nails pricking under his fingers as his purrs turned into deeper growls in the back of his throat. He was here, with his chosen alpha, and they were going up to a bedroom to have quite a lot of fun… was Steve upset that the noises hurt Tony? Upset because Tony was doing something wrong? Upset because someone said something to him? To Tony?

“Tony, it’s alright, it’s fine,” Steve said, voice sudden and loud right in Tony’s ear, causing Tony to flinch and hiss a little. “It’s alright. We’re almost there. Okay? We’re almost there, and then you’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

That didn’t explain to Tony why his alpha was upset, but Steve, for all that he smelled unhappy, was keeping his voice calm and reassuring. The elevator’s doors opened, and Steve fumbled for access before opening the door to his personal quarters.

The entire room smelled like Steve.

Tony shifted, on edge because the smell was almost overpowering, of alpha and strength and potential danger, but Steve was gently coaxing Tony past the living room to the bedroom, and maybe being in Steve’s rooms would be better for Steve? Tony wanted to make things better for his alpha, after all.

So Tony obligingly followed Steve into the bedroom, Steve’s hands on Tony’s shoulders comforting and calming in some respects. The bedroom was simple, for Tony’s tastes – he had created each Avenger’s floor off an individualized plan, but their decorations and furniture was left in their hands. The bed was smaller than Tony would have preferred, but his alpha was starting to take off clothes, both his own and pushing at Tony’s sweats, and Tony did really want to be in a bed and covered by an alpha’s body at the earliest opportunity.

With a pleased croon, he shoved off his pants, revealing his flushed cock and leaking hole. Steve’s eyes dilated, and Tony preened under Steve’s regard. Then Steve was moving him, a little bit roughly, to the center of the bed.

Obligingly, Tony got to the center of the bed and rolled onto his back, looking up at Steve, who was looming above him.

“So beautiful,” Steve murmured, running a possessive hand down Tony’s front, and Tony shifted anxiously, spreading his legs, willing to get to the centerpiece of the entertainment. He wanted to feel what it was like, to know what it felt like to be an omega in heat and have an alpha see you through it. He’d been fucked plenty of times before, had fucked others, but this, this was his chance, and with Steve Rogers no less, the epitome of perfection and nobility. Steve Rogers wouldn’t take advantage, not the way Ty or Sunset had tried, and wouldn’t turn him away, the way Pepper had, once, twice.

Steve began lining up his cock, ready to push right in, and Tony frowned.

Steve paused, and looked down. “What – what’s the matter?”

And it was hard for Tony to move from nonverbal to verbal, especially with the Dance complete and the heat riding him, but he managed to croak out, “Protection. And stretching. Stretch first. Please.”

Steve’s scent went sick with embarrassment, something that almost physically hurt to smell, and Tony opened his mouth to apologize, to reassure Steve that he did nothing wrong, his omega side kicking in to appease and placate the alpha above him, particularly the alpha he’d chosen for this heat, but Steve was already up and moving to the bathroom, leaving Tony cold and shivering in the middle of the bed. Weakly, with difficult and uncoordinated movements, Tony tugged the blanket down and began to hole up in the middle when Steve emerged from the bathroom, clutching lube and condoms.

“Why are you under the blankets?” he asked, voice mildly disapproving.

Tony licked his lips and mumbled, “S’cold. Cold, on top.”

“Ah, shit. Yeah, sorry, I – alphas are supposed to keep omegas warm, I remember.”

Tony was beginning to think that Steve was as much a virgin as he himself was. Not that he could fault Steve for being a virgin; everyone knew that Steve hadn’t been much to look at before the war, and after the serum had been thrown right into war. Probably had never been to a Dance, either, or seen an omega through their heat. And, well, Tony had been hoping to have an experienced alpha, someone that he could lie back and just _feel_ with, but this was, this was alright. They were both learning, so they both could forgive each other. With a warm smile, predatory look creeping back onto his face as his body demanded filling _now_ , he beckoned Steve onto the bed.

Steve immediately got up, shoving the condom hastily on (Tony was glad he took contraceptives himself, because if Tony had been a smidgen less coherent, he wouldn’t have been able to remind Steve about condoms, never mind that Steve had managed to remember) and squirting lube onto his fingers to begin working Tony open.

And, well, there wasn’t much you could mess up at _this_ stage of it.

Tony purred in contentment as Steve’s fingers slid over his prostrate once, spread his ass wide. Tony had a lot of sex, with women and men, but there really wasn’t anything like the feel of being spread open, being helpless and gaping beneath a lover. When Steve withdrew his fingers, Tony whined and tried to grab Steve’s wrist, hold the fingers there – because that was only two, there should be more stretching involved – but Steve lined up his cock and pushed the blunt head forward.

Tony grunted, claws flexing underneath his fingernails as he reacted to the pain and the discomfort, and Steve murmured soothingly above Tony as he slowly inched his way inside Tony’s unforgiving body. Teeth bared, Tony gripped at Steve’s shoulders, claws making small pinpricks of blood well to the surface, and Steve winced.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured, over and over, and it became a litany as Tony’s body slowly adjusted, got back with the program. The sensation of being filled, of completion, of the most intimate interlocking of bodies possible, smoothed something out in Tony’s brain, curved through the primal areas and settled down to sleep. Lazily, he tilted his hips, letting Steve slide that last inch home, balls heavy against Tony’s ass, and Tony hummed, eyes falling shut and claws retracting as everything slotted into place.

The rest of his heat was lost in a haze of sex, of need that made him claw at the sheets and snarl when Steve left him too long, of desire and contentment that had him purring as Steve split him open and pinned him down. It was vague flashes of sensory input, brief jerks of time that confused him and even upset him, when he would rise out of the haze of desire to realize Steve wasn’t by his side any longer, making him hiss and snarl for his chosen mate.

Heats, he knew deep underneath the overwhelming pressure and presence of his heat, took quite a few days. He wondered how long his would last.

But then the hormones would fluctuate again, stretching like a giant muscle, and Tony would once more pull Steve down on top of him for another bout of enthusiastic sex.

 

***

 

Tony woke up with his head pounding, rubbing his forehead and wincing. “Shit,” he mumbled, mouth sore and body aching everywhere – particularly in one area. He knew alphas could be more than a little forceful, which was why alphas remained unbonded much longer than omegas and betas, but he hadn’t appreciated how physical and even violent alphas could be, not until he’d actually been with Steve.

Tony cracked open a single eye, trying to comprehend where he was and what was going on. Last he remembered…

… The Dance. Steve. Following Steve into Steve’s rooms. The bed.

All of it flashed through Tony’s head and he realized he must still be in that post-heat phase of an omega’s heat, because his instinctive response was to wonder why his alpha had left the bed, and _then_ he wondered about the gaping emptiness in his belly that was the result of the omega’s long fast throughout their heat. Come to think of it, his mouth was really, _really_ dry, too, and he swallowed a few times in vain, trying to moisten his tongue and throat.

There was the sound of motion, and Tony hesitated.

He was really thirsty, and he really needed to eat, but he was vain enough to realize he’d managed to do the first step of bonding with _Steve Rogers_ , the pinnacle of human perfection, and he was an aging omega who had just gone through his first heat. Yeah, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to _actually_ bond with Steve Rogers, but the first step meant something to all omegas, didn’t it? It indicated trust, some measure of respect and regard… right?

Tony dragged his aching body out of bed and winced at the bites and bruises that made themselves very loudly known. He wasn’t as young as he thought he was, sometimes, and his body seemed to always gleefully remind him of the fact whenever he pushed too hard. Bad enough that he had irregular sleeping and eating habits; the heat hadn’t done his metabolism any favors, and his stomach seemed ready to eat his spine.

Staggering to the bathroom, he turned on the shower and stumbled into the basin, turning the water as hot as he could manage to stand it. The pounding water eased some of the muscle pain, smoothing out the aches, and absently Tony pressed against one of the bite marks on his throat.

A sensory memory flashed – teeth, strong, buried in his throat but too low for a bonding mark, cock pumping in his ass and Tony’s hands buried in short hair, clutching to his alpha’s body—

His cock gave a valiant twitch, but he had only just finished his heat. No way that his body was up for any type of intercourse whatsoever.

“JARVIS,” he croaked, and then cleared his throat to make his voice marginally clearer. “J, what’s the date and time?”

“It is currently the fourteenth of October, the time is twelve-eighteen, temperature thirty-one degrees—”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Tony muttered, pushing soggy bangs out of his face and turning off the water. Late in the day – Steve had probably already left. Fourteenth, and the Dance had been on the eighth. Six-day heat.

He wondered if that was typical, or if first heats were longer or shorter than established heats. He could probably do some research—

Not now, though. Now, he had to get dressed, and if he had a curiously empty feeling in his gut where his alpha was missing, well, he would just have to go find the alpha, wouldn’t he? Stepping out of the shower and onto the mat, he dried himself briskly, trying not to shudder too much with pleasure or memories when he moved over a particularly sensitive hickey.

He stepped out of the bathroom and instantly realized the current problem. He was in Steve’s rooms, which meant no clothes. He supposed he could get into the sweats that were currently discarded by the door, but a, they smelled like Tony’s heat, and as alluring as that had been _during_ his heat, now it smelled like sweaty gym socks, and b, that still left Tony without a shirt, and as much as he was confident and in control, he still didn’t like walking around with the arc reactor exposed in such a manner, not even in the privacy of his own rooms.

He glanced over at Steve’s drawers.

A few minutes later, he stepped out into Steve’s wider quarters in overly loose sweats and a sweatshirt, his own sweats balled up in his hand. “JARVIS, where is everyone?”

“Agent Romanoff is in the kitchen with Agent Coulson and Agent Barton. Dr. Banner is within the lab. Thor and Mr. Rogers are currently within the gym. Do you need anything, sir?”

Tony paused. He felt… odd. A weird swooping feeling in his stomach, as if he was falling, and everything seemed much brighter, sharper, than normal. But—

“No, I’m fine. I’m gonna go up to my room and… sleep a little more, I think.”

“If you are certain, sir,” JARVIS replied, and his mechanical voice sounded worried, nervous even.

Taking a deep breath, he moved out of Steve’s doors and keyed the elevator to the kitchen floor – he was thirsty, and maybe he could ignore eating until he was more rested, but his lips felt dry and his mouth parched. Licking his lips, he stepped out of the elevator and hesitated when the conversation, that had been going on until that moment, stopped.

After a few moments, Agent Coulson stood up and came over to Tony’s side. “Are you alright, Stark?” he asked, brow furrowed. “You look – as if you should still be in bed.”

The concern, and the familiar dislike of having alphas tell him how to act, had Tony prickling, shoulders coming up defensively even as he said in a clipped voice, “I’m fine. A little thirsty, and then I’m going to my rooms for a shower.”

“If you need anything—” Coulson began, but Tony cut him off.

“I’m good, I said,” he growled, and still it took a few moments before Coulson dipped his head and stepped aside.

Natasha watched him for a moment before saying, “I can make you tea, you know. It would probably be better than coffee.”

“Blasphemer,” Tony muttered as he poured out a generous amount of coffee into the mug and then pawed at the honey bottle to sweeten the liquid.

Suddenly, Clint was standing up, next to Tony but not crowding his space. “How about this?” he asked, and Tony looked over to see that Clint was pulling out cocoa, already getting a mug down and placing milk on the table out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Tony licked his lips.

“Why don’t you get settled upstairs, and I’ll bring it to you?” Clint offered, and Tony was mildly suspicious about how accommodating Clint was…

…but going upstairs and curling in his familiar bedspread, with familiar smells, and familiar textures, sounded perfect right about now.

After a second more of hesitation, Tony reasoned that he wasn’t _listening_ to an alpha, he was just taking up someone’s offer. He’d never hesitated to take up other alphas when they offered him things because he was omega – after all, if alphas were dumb enough to think what they offered would actually make him bend over, who was he to correct them of their misinformed views? – so it shouldn’t be too bad to accept Clint’s compromise. And he _did_ want cocoa, now that he thought about it, thought about the chocolate and the caffeine and the warmth…

“Okay,” he said quietly. “You’ll bring it up?”

“Of course,” Clint said quickly, a smile flashing across his face.

Tony looked at him suspiciously, and then over at the other two in the room – both of which averted their gaze. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he didn’t really have the energy or push to do more, so he left the kitchen and made his way to the separate elevator that would take him to his quarters. Once upstairs, in the familiar surroundings of his own room, he stripped off Steve’s clothes and bundled himself in to warm fuzzy blankets that felt like heaven against his skin. Curling up in the middle of his large bed, he half-closed his eyes and waited.

He wondered where Steve was. Or, not really – he knew where Steve was. He wondered why Steve wasn’t _here_ , with him. Surely alphas stuck close by the omegas until the omegas were fully out of the haze of the heat? Or maybe that was just for young omegas, omegas who needed the care. Maybe he was supposed to be over such behavior by his age.

Shit, he never should have agreed to the Dance. It wasn’t – it wasn’t worth it.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Clint called out, “Hey there, room service!”

Tony grunted, and gestured a little at the door. Obligingly, JARVIS opened the bedroom doors and Clint came in with a tray of food.

Tony frowned and sat up more in his blankets. “What – I thought cocoa?”

“It’s here. But there’s also some toast, and some biscuits, and a few donuts.”

Tony’s stomach growled, and Clint ducked his head to hide his smile. With a huff, Tony wiggled closer to the edge of the bed and let Clint put the tray down. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“No problem,” Clint responded, and there was something in his voice that gave Tony pause. He looked up, but Clint had that same amiable, affable look that he always had around Tony nowadays. It was a little creepy, to be honest, but it was also…

Tony put the thoughts out of his head and turned to devour the rich warm bread and sugared cake Clint had brought to him.

 

***

 

Two days later, after Clint’s inexplicable behavior and total radio silence from Steve, Tony decided to walk the halls of the mansion in hopes of bumping into Steve at some point. After all, there was only so much space in the Tower; inevitably, they were bound to walk into each other.

Clint appeared, which was both infuriating and confusing. He didn’t need an overbearing alpha hanging around, even if it was kinda nice that Clint wasn’t actually trying to do anything at all – just see if he needed anything. Talk with him. He had to be honest, Clint wasn’t talking to him in the way alphas normally did – in ways that even Agent and Pepper did at points, with that condescending tone and commanding air, as if expecting Tony to listen because they wanted him to. Yeah, having that tone leveled at him didn’t help at all, and in fact it did have the same effect on Tony as it did other omegas, making him want to please the angry alpha. But Clint – Clint had never used that tone on him before, and it meant that Tony trusted him a little more than he would otherwise. So Clint walked with him down to the common room, joking about something Richards and the rest of the Four had gotten themselves into, when Tony turned a corner and slammed straight into Steve’s chest.

“What—” Steve began, and then he paused. “Tony. Are you alright?”

Clint sighed a little. “I’ll see you around, Tony.” With that, he walked on ahead, leaving the two of them alone.

“Am I alright?” Tony asked, voice incredulous. “Why didn’t – I woke up alone in your room!”

“Yeah…” Steve winced a little. “I know it wasn’t that great, but thank you.”

Tony had been gearing up, ready to say more, but the thank you had him closing his mouth in surprise. “Thank you?” he finally repeated.

“I mean, I know that I should give you more, but I was hoping to do a little research, find something worthy of you as a gift.”

“A gift?” Tony repeated awkwardly.

Steve paused, and bit his tongue. “Is that different nowadays? I was hoping it wouldn’t be too different, but I’m still catching up on the cultural changes and exchanges between alphas, betas, and omegas.”

Tony rubbed at his beard, pulling his arms tight against his body. “Why don’t you tell me what you expected to do, and I’ll let you know how far off the mark you are?”

“Well,” Steve said slowly. “When an elder omega teaches a young alpha how to handle a heat, it’s… customary of the alpha to bring a small bit of money or gold, or something personally valuable. I was still trying to figure out how to… what to get you.”

“Do omegas often help young alphas?” Tony asked, feeling his heart clench. Here he had been, happy and wrapped up in that Steve had chosen him… only to find out that Steve wasn’t here because of the same reason.

“Often enough,” Steve said, shrugging his shoulders. “Past, you know, the omega’s prime… they help young alphas learn how to handle a heat with a younger omega.”

Tony grunted, doing his best to keep his reaction locked inside his mouth and throat. After a few moments, he managed to say, “Training omegas?”

“Yeah,” Steve said casually.

Tony cleared his throat. “I see. Well.” He pasted on his smile. “That’s – not quite how things are done nowadays, no, but I’m glad to have helped.”

Steve grinned, careless and happy, and Tony fought not to react in any other way except in a return smile.

 

***

 

“Are you okay?”

Tony stared down at the worktable, shoulders hunched. “I’m fine, Bruce.”

Bruce pushed the rolling chair over next to Tony, leaned his shoulder against Tony. “You don’t seem fine.”

“Just tired,” Tony said, dredging a smile up and flashing it over his face. Pretend, pretend, pretend, everything was going to be fine. “Not used to going through a heat at this age, you know?”

“Really?” Bruce said, surprised, and Tony looked down.

Something he’d gotten wrong again. How he’d gotten it wrong, he had no idea, but—

“Yeah, less drive for it, you know? Haven’t had the time for the Dance since before the Avengers started.”

Bruce slowly nodded. “I guess, after Afghanistan it would be hard to be vulnerable again.”

Tony latched onto the explanation, even if it made him flinch. “Well. I mean I just didn’t need to, so much.”

“Every omega needs to. It’s alright to have needs, you know – the Dance is for us, for making us feel better. I always liked it, as a teen. It made me… wanted. Whole, in a way. The other guy took that chance from me, and being on the run…” Bruce trailed off and shrugged. “Losing the choice to Dance was a big thing. It hurt, and sometimes I would toy with the idea of stealing the bloodwine, just having the heat so the emotions would have somewhere to go. But in the end, I just… didn’t.” He smiled tiredly. “I almost did, with Betty, but that didn’t work out all that well.”

“I’m glad you and Natasha worked out. I said you would.”

Bruce laughed and touched his fingers against Tony’s neck briefly before rolling away to the other side of the lab. “You said no such thing,” he chuckled, “but yes, it did work out.” His voice grew softer, but Tony kept his head down so he couldn’t see the expression on Bruce’s face. “It worked out.”

“That’s good,” Tony said, thinking about the bottle of bloodwine he’d purchased the other day illegally and smuggled into his drinking cabinet. “From a biological standpoint – the heat is necessary? For omegas?”

Bruce paused, and Tony could almost feel the uncertain regard, the curiosity. “It’s – not really necessary, no. I mean, the heat is there to help omegas cleanse themselves of their emotions, just like the rut is for alphas, and betas are biologically more balanced than alphas or omegas, though participating in the Dance is often cathartic for them, too. Omegas’ physiology craves the heat, but craves the intimacy more, and older omegas don’t go through the heat often – more like once or twice a year, instead of the bi-monthly Dances younger omegas participate in – but it still makes them happier. More balanced.”

“But it’s not necessary, in and of itself. What would happen if an omega just… didn’t have a heat anymore?” Tony asked.

The chair slowly rolled back. “Something _did_ happen with Steve, didn’t it?” he asked, voice hard. “He’s a new alpha, still very young, but that doesn’t excuse him, and Coulson was worried he’d do something to upset you—”

“Really? Why was he worried?” Tony asked, looking up even as he kept his gaze from looking Bruce directly in the eye – more like off to the side.

Bruce frowned, his brown eyes worried as he leaned forward, trying to capture Tony’s gaze again even as he said, “Because young alphas fuck up a lot; they don’t get their strength down, they rut away without caring for their omega, they don’t make sure the omega is hydrated properly… young alphas think their knot makes them gods, and while Steve’s got a good head on his shoulders, it doesn’t mean he’s immune from the false superiority most alphas feel.”

Tony thought back to the heat that had seemed so rough and awkward now. Two virgins, fumbling their way through it, and it almost made Tony laugh. Steve had picked him because he had wanted an experienced omega; Tony had picked Steve because he wanted a powerful alpha. Both of them had been disappointed.

“Well, it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t bad. Just – different,” Tony finally said, eyes flickering up and freezing when he saw Clint standing in the doorway, eyes hooded.

Bruce looked up, following Tony’s gaze, and smiled. “Hey there, Clint. How’re you?”

“Good, I’m doing good,” he said quietly. “Mind if I join you two?”

Bruce looked at Tony, and Tony looked at Bruce. “Why now?” Tony finally asked for the two of them. “What do you want to do?”

With a laugh, Clint came in, and Tony noticed the laugh didn’t really reach his eyes; they were sad, somehow. Before Tony could comment on it, Clint was saying easily, “Well, if you have something for me to do, that’d be awesome, but otherwise, no, I just wanted to hang out. Watch.”

“There’s nothing better on the TV?” Tony asked reflexively.

Holding Tony’s gaze, Clint slowly shook his head. “No, nothing up there that can compare to down here, honestly.”

The words – flustered Tony. What did Clint mean? Was this actual flirting, or was this Clint just… being Clint?

Bruce also seemed a bit taken aback, but after a long moment of awkwardness, Bruce shrugged and turned back to his own project, spread out in front of him.

 

***

 

A day later, Tony came out of his workshop and up to the communal floor to have some breakfast. Thor and Jane had the television on – Natasha was in the kitchen with it, but wasn’t watching it – when the daily morning people began speculating on Captain America’s hot date.

Tony’s eyes jerked up to the picture, because they weren’t supposed to show him, they _weren’t_ —

The omega that was with Steve was a completely different omega. Female, long blond hair, a sassy smile, tall build and trim hips. Small, simple curves.

Tony bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood in his mouth.

 

 

***

 

“You know, Steve’s a young alpha willing and eager to run wild. Send his seed everywhere, wave his dick around. Compare it to others. He’s not – he’s not thinking right, no alpha does at that age, when they whip it out in hopes that someone will take pity on them and do something with their sad penis,” Clint said to him later that day, eyes nervous. Tony smiled, shrugging it off because even if Clint was right – and he wasn’t saying he was – he knew he wasn’t really marriage material, not really much of the good, proper omegas alphas looked for. Steve had a right to assume Tony had been in the circle that night to help show younger alphas how to handle heats, to use Tony as a training time for young alphas who had never helped other omegas through their heats.

Tony thought back to the bottle of bloodwine sitting in his room, delivered yesterday, and carefully made his plans.

 

***

 

Tony sat on the edge of his bed, stared at the bottle on the nightstand. It was full, of course it was – Tony had enough money to buy a full bottle, even though it was nowhere near the next ritual of the Dance. Money talked, after all, and Tony had enough money to make people sing his tune ten times over.

He probably shouldn’t. Burning out the heat was a painful process, one that tore the body up from the inside, and it would prevent Tony from ever having children again. But Tony couldn’t get out of his head the awkward words, phrases, that came from Steve’s mouth, the way he was obviously looking at other omegas with far more interest than he had ever really looked at Tony with, the way that Steve didn’t seem to care at all about Tony, or Tony’s happiness during the heat, or Tony’s needs after the heat.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to know and remember how exhilarating the Dance had been, because it was so tightly tied up with these memories, these emotions. He had fought against his nature all his youth, had denied himself the Dance throughout his adolescence and young adulthood, had offered and been denied, had thought to offer and found out that people were only trying to use him. And now, here, Steve had used him, too, and he had a good reason, a reason that Tony couldn’t even find fault with, so the problem must lie in Tony’s own self. Why else? He was an omega, he knew people liked to sleep with him because they did it all the time, but they never did it because they wanted _him_ – just because they wanted something else. Status, money, power, a chance to stab at him – it all boiled down to that.

Being an omega had always been a curse, and Tony could easily remove that curse by doing this, here, now.

Steeling himself, he reached over, uncorked the bottle, and took the first big gulp.

Fire trickled down his throat.

Before he could lose his nerve, he took another, longer, gulp, finishing off half the bottle, and the fire began to seethe in his chest and trickle down to his abdomen, small cramps beginning to twist his sides.

More to go, and he drank, again, and again, forcing it down as the inferno in his belly began to pulse, ache, _hurt_.

When he finished the bottle, he dropped it from his hands and stared at his shaking fingers. The next part – the next part was going to hurt.

There was a clattering noise, and Tony looked up to see Clint fall from the ceiling and land lightly on his toes. The picture was so strange that Tony almost convinced himself he was dreaming – until Clint looked down at Tony’s feet, saw the bottle, and went pale. No, if Tony was dreaming, he’d be seeing Clint looking hot, protective, even. Not terrified. Not worried. Though that did beg the question… why would Clint be worried?

“Tony, is it – can you feel the burning, in your chest?” Clint asked quickly, taking steps over to Tony’s side.

Tony pushed off of the bed, shakily stepped back from Clint. “I’m going to burn it out of me. D – Howard was right, it’s, I’m, it’s useless, no one needs it, omega trash.”

Clint bit his lip and cleared his throat roughly. “Look, I don’t – I don’t think this is the right idea. It’s your choice, I know it is, and I’m not going to stop it, but you’re throwing your body into heat, and a bad heat at that. If no one’s there to help see you through it, it will burn out part of your insides. You’ll never be able to have children.”

“Don’t deserve,” Tony said, voice short, breath starting to stutter and jerk in his throat.

There was silence for a minute, and then Clint tilted his head, somehow made himself look smaller, less threatening, for all that Tony could smell the alpha smell on him, could tell that Clint was scared from the scent he was giving off. “I can – this is your choice. It will always be your choice. But I’m – I’m here. I was hoping to, to talk you out of it, but you know, I’m a bit late, but I’m here and I can, I can make sure it doesn’t burn you out. I can make sure you get children, if you want them, or you have the chance in the future to bond to someone who isn’t young, dumb, and horny.”

Tony wasn’t sure he was tracking Clint’s words right, because it sounded almost like—

“I’m saying you can, if you want, you can use me to see you through the heat. Don’t go through it alone – don’t let it burn you out, unless you really want to, but you don’t have to. I’m telling you there are other options, Tony.”

Tony licked his lips, body beginning to shake, the sick, dark flush creeping over his skin, and Clint rocked forward as if he would take ahold of Tony. Tony side-stepped away, pressed his back against the doors of the closet, stared at Clint blankly.

“Tony, I need to ask you, I need to know – can I do this? Will you accept this?”

Tony stared at Clint through the fever that was burning his insides. He needed – he _needed_ , but he had needed only once before, and he didn’t want – he didn’t want what had happened then to happen now. He wanted – he wanted someone for himself, but Howard had crippled it for him, and then he’d finished. This burning – this pyre – this was his own choice, his just reward for being a coward his whole life, for pinning his hopes on fucking _Captain America_ when he should have fucking manned up and done what was needed—

But there was a part, a part of him that didn’t want to be blamed. Who wanted what Clint was offering. Who wanted, desperately, to be wanted, to be liked, to be _needed_ , because it had never been him but his company, his money, his position, the coup of sleeping with him, that had been the objective, always. Pepper had been – had been the closest, but she had told him no, told him not to have a heat because they couldn’t both afford to be taken out of the business world, and he, he had respected that—

“Tony.”

Tony blinked, body moving through molasses trying to react, respond, and Clint looked scared, worried.

“Tony, I would be – I would be _honored_ if you would allow me to see you through this. If you pick me. If you are choosing this because of Steve – fuck him.”

The blunt, to the point words jarred Tony, gave him a few precious moments unclouded by the heat brought on by the bottle he had emptied, and he stared at Clint a long, long moment before whispering, “Why?”

Tony’s vision was blurred, the heat taking over fast – too fast – but he could see Clint’s eyes fall to the ground, his cheeks pale and his jaw tight. He could _smell_ Clint’s distress and shame. “Because,” Clint said quietly, “I’m an old alpha, too old to really… be anyone’s first pick. I didn’t really think I had a chance – and I knew you were at the Dance because you were trying to help Natasha and Bruce. I didn’t – and then you were with Steve, and it was too late. You had already picked him. But he, he didn’t, he’s young, but that’s no excuse, really. He didn’t treat you as you – as I know you should be treated. And I – I think I can. I will. I hope. I want _you_ , Tony. And if this – if burning out your heats, burning this away from you, is your choice, I can’t, I won’t stop that. But if you’re doing this because of Steve, because what he did, then I don’t – I don’t want to see you lose that. I want you to know that Steve isn’t perfect, and he’s definitely not the spokesperson of the world. There are people who want you for you.”

Tony bit his lip, the fire eating him up from his gut, tearing at him, and he looked up at the vent in his ceiling. He’d chosen his bedroom to make this private, and the heat was making it damnably difficult to think beyond literal terms. “You came from the ceiling.”

“Yeah, I – I overheard your talk with Bruce, and I… knew. I knew a girl who, who did what you did, because of her first lover and, and what he did. Yours wasn’t as extreme, thank fuck, but still… I guessed. Luckily.” Clint took a step forward and tentatively linked his fingers around Tony’s wrist.

Instinctively, Tony’s claws slid out, his hand twisted to dig claws into the forearm of Clint. Clint winced, but he brought his other hand up and carefully lifted Tony’s other hand and placed it on his neck.

“Use me, then, Tony,” he said quietly, “but don’t burn yourself out. Not for Steve. Hell, not for anyone, ever. I don’t know how the biology works, I don’t think you’re weak, I don’t think omegas need alphas the way every other knot-head thinks, but I’m here as an option. If you want to take it.”

Tony glanced back to the bed, and then tightened his fingers around Clint’s neck before releasing him. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Clint repeated, gently cradling Tony’s chin and forcing Tony to look at him. “We’re okay? This is alright?”

Tony nodded, feeling the burning reach a crescendo, pain blurring everything except Clint’s soft, kind eyes. “Please,” he whispered again.

Before he really realized it, Clint had tugged him over to the bed, quickly and competently removing his own clothes. Naked, he crawled onto the bed and leaned back, splaying himself out. “Steve’s young,” he repeated. “I doubt he was invited to any Dances, not in his youth before the war, or if he went he wasn’t invited to Dance with an omega. Let me show you how it works with an experienced alpha.”

Tony didn’t really get the gist of the words; they were lost as the heat swelled over him with blistering force, and he clawed off his own clothes and crawled onto the bed, immediately trying to seat himself on Clint’s aroused cock. Clint grabbed his hips carefully, slowing him, and Tony snarled.

“Easy,” Clint murmured, running his hands up and down Tony’s sides, soothing him, and the calm scent of his alpha was doing nothing to speed Tony’s heat along, and doing everything to frustrate him. Growling, Tony tried to seat himself down again on Clint’s cock, and Clint let him down easy, slowly, maddeningly slowly, to the point where Tony felt his claws prick against his nails, threatening to come out.

Clint made more soothing noises, and Tony rumbled in his throat, but then Clint’s cock was fully seated and even if he was still missing that frantic rutting of an alpha, at least he had a cock inside, thick and throbbing and _there_. He leaned down, licking and nipping at Clint’s jaw and throat, begging wordlessly for stimulation, for what he _needed_ with his heat pressing in on him from all sides.

Clint said something, and Tony was too far gone to understand words but the tone was admiring, pleased, and Tony wiggled with pleasure at the tone from his alpha. Clint grunted underneath Tony, and then he bucked his hips.

Tony keened.

There was something smug and satisfied in Clint’s tone as he continued to croon and speak at Tony, but Tony felt the last bits of rationality slipping away as he turned himself over to blind lust, the sensations that washed over him as he felt smears of sensation slide over his ass, up his back, felt the pulse of a cock in his ass, the strong muscles and thick scent of an alpha that was protecting and caring and cherishing.

He turned himself over to Clint, and Clint didn’t let him fall.

The heat swept over him, a blanket that muffled memories and the mind but sharpened sensations. Later, Tony wouldn’t remember much, if anything – just the weight of a body above his, pinning him down, protection and warmth radiating. Just soft, gentle kisses peppered along Tony’s jaw and throat as something inexplicably wide split him open. Just the sensation of wide, thick fingers splayed out over his arms, his abdomen, his thighs.

He would remember the tenderness, the gentleness, the love.

He would remember it was everything he had ever hoped it could be.

 

***

 

He woke up in bits and pieces, sense by sense, touch coming back first to let him know that the bed he was on was his own, and there was a line of warmth at his back that was solid and dependable. Then scent came back online, and he could smell the sex, the sweat, the alpha’s feelings even, all surrounding him, enveloping him.

“There you are,” Clint said, voice rough, and Tony let out a soft purring noise as sound came back online, followed quickly by sight and taste. Blinking at the weak light trickling in through the dark curtains, he licked his cracked lips and tried to bring some type of moisture to his extremely dry mouth.

His alpha leaned over his body, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back. “You think you could sit up? If I lean you against my chest?”

Drowsily, Tony nodded, and Clint scooted up the bed before helping tug Tony up as well. Once Tony was mostly upright, Clint brought a cup of water with a straw to Tony’s lips, and Tony listlessly pulled the straw into his mouth and sucked at the straw.

“You were so good,” Clint praised warmly, thumb moving in gentle circles against the base of Tony’s neck, and Tony felt himself curling into Clint, preening under the praise. “So good, Tony, thank you, for letting me do this. Thank you.”

Tony basked in the gentle words, letting them sink into him, and he felt… drowsy. Content.

He cracked open an eye and looked at Clint. “Did we… bond?” he asked, but in a general, almost uncaring.

Clint looked a bit guilty. “Not – not really. But you have to understand, you drank – you drank an entire bottle of bloodwine. To stabilize, to, to help you, I need to, I needed to go a bit further in the bonding process than just the, the knotting.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Clint, and he sighed explosively. “I had to – to bite the back of your neck, give you the initial bonding mark. But you don’t have to bonded to me, not if you don’t want to be. It’s easy enough to get rid of a bonding mark – I’ll just, you know, not bite there again. It will fade within three or four weeks.”

Tony reached up and rubbed his fingers against the back of his neck, feeling the tingle of the bruise release hormones into his bloodstream. The bonding mark wasn’t the end-all, be-all of bonding, but it was pretty damn important.

“I – I’ll need to think about it,” he said finally, voice rough and hoarse.

Clint nodded sheepishly. “Of course. Let me get some food into you.” He pushed up off the bed, looking none-too-steady himself, and brushed his lips against Tony’s forehead before exiting the room.

Tony watched him go.

Now, objectively, with the rush of self-hate and his heat gone, he could realize he _may_ have overreacted, a smidgen. Sure, it was devastating to know that Steve had looked at him like – like he was a training omega, someone to use to get better at bedding _real_ omegas. Yeah, it had fucking hurt that not only had Steve come up to him for the sole reason of ‘learning’ how to deal with omegas, but that not even three days later he was courting another omega. It had hurt that he couldn’t even blame Steve, because Coulson had been right – in Steve’s time, older omegas were in fact there for younger alphas to train with, and so Steve, for all that he had caught up with the times, hadn’t expected anything different. It sure as hell had hurt to know the alpha he’d chosen to share his heat with hadn’t thought it anything special – but then again, it was also, sure as hell, _not_ Steve’s fault that Tony had attached more emotion to the shared heat than experienced omegas would have.

So really, Tony should have handled it better. Instead of trying to burn out the offending part of his biology, the part that had made him curious enough to ignore misgivings and try a heat with an alpha, he should have just retreated to his workshop and licked his wounds in private. Instead, he had attempted to burn out his heats and somehow Clint had figured it out and while yeah, Clint seemed like a decent enough alpha, Tony sure wasn’t going to be super comfortable that Clint was aware of Tony’s weak decision.

Clint had said he wasn’t upset with Tony. Hadn’t said he thought Tony was weak. He’d seemed genuinely aware of what Tony needed and provided it as quickly as possible.

He’d praised Tony, even.

Tony pulled in a deep breath and moved off the bed to take a shower.

When he got out of the shower, he pulled on his bathrobe and tied it tightly. Coming out of his bedroom into the living quarters, he saw Clint making use of the in-quarters kitchen that had probably never been used _once_. Clint had managed to scrounge up something to make very, very thin pancakes that were slightly burnt.

Clint turned around and winced. “Look, it’s not like I had a lot of ingredients to work with.”

“No, I’m – surprised you managed that much,” Tony said honestly. He kept a few of the essentials in his room, because he _sometimes_ ate up here. Rarely.

Clint huffed. “Yeah, it was pretty sparse pickings. But hey, I managed.” He smiled and gestured at the table. “You going to sit?”

Tony carefully sat down and pulled pancakes onto his plate. Clint was chattering about how Natasha and Bruce were working out, how Thor was helping Darcy learn how to ride on horseback.

“I like the mark.”

Clint stopped, squinting at Tony. “What?”

“I like – I like the mark,” Tony said quietly, looking down at his plate. “I know – I know I wasn’t exactly paying attention to you before, when you tried to talk to me during – well, after. But I mean – this isn’t, I don’t think this is because of the bad breakup, of everything that happened, I don’t. I don’t think it’s because you’re, you agreed to this, you took care of me. You’re a great guy, and I think, I’d like to think, that if you had come up to me before Steve… I would’ve gone with you, too.”

Clint was sitting motionless across from him, and after a few moments, he cleared his throat and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m not – I mean, I would like to ask, but not now, obviously—”

“But I’m saying yes, now, but if you, you know, wanna wait, wanna maybe go on a date or five or ten first, that’s cool, too, but I’m just saying that I, I liked this heat. Very much.”

At that, Clint huffed. “I doubt you remember much of it, you drank so much bloodwine.”

Tony met Clint’s gaze steadily. “I remember feeling safe. And protected. And cared for.” He stopped, and hitched one shoulder casually. “And, you know, I never got to feel that with an alpha before, so maybe it’s the new sensations, but I really – I really think this will work out okay. I’d like to try, at least.”

Blinking, Clint sat speechless for long enough that Tony began to worry he really had something to upset or mess up his chances, but then Clint let out a small laugh. “Well. Fine pair we make, hmm? Stumbling over each other and our mistakes. Tony, I would love to take you out on a date tomorrow evening. Say, seven?”

Tony smiled. “Seven would be perfect.”


End file.
